Dreams
by The Scarletclad Mage
Summary: Complete with flashbacks, nightmares, and expressive imagery, this fic centers around Caramon and Raistlin in between Dragons of Spring Dawning and Time of the Twins. I've worked really hard on this one, PLEASE R&R!
1. Mortality

Dreams

I'm not so sure if this is through or not. It takes place in between _Dragons of Spring Dawning_ and _Time of the Twins_. There are several quotes taken straight from _the Soulforge_, and _Test of the Twins_, and I can't claim those as my own genius :) I am pretty sure this fits with the books_ (_correction: could fit with the books) and I'd really appreciate your comments. 

**Chapter 1: Mortality**

The tower stood, black against black, casting a dark silhouette in the silver peppered sky. The bright, colorful lights of Palanthas were swallowed into the eternal darkness that it nested within. A cold chill radiated off of it, stopping both the blood and heartbeat of those who dared to even look at the cursed building, the stronghold of evil. Raistlin Majere stood in the very top window of his laboratory, gazing at the moons. In his right hand, he held a staff that was topped with a dragon's claw clutching a multi-faceted crystal, the Staff of Magius. The bright light of Solinari shone on his skin, casting the gold to glow, and illuminating the silver in his white hair. He blinked uncomfortably in the luminosity, feeling as if Solinari himself was looking down at him. Sighing softly to himself, the archmage withdrew from the window, shunning the light and what it represented. His soft black robes whispered around his ankles as he descended the flight of stairs from the laboratory to his bedchambers, leaning heavily on the Staff of Magius. Once inside, he was just getting into bed when he began to cough violently. Grabbing a bloodstained cloth from one of the secret pockets of his robe, he attempted to wipe his mouth, but the spasms continued. The cloth and staff clambered to the ground and he sank to his knees in agony. Gradually, the coughing subsided, but, anguished, Raistlin remained on the floor.

"Thus the gods remind me of my mortality," Tinged with sarcasm, his voice echoed off the empty walls to reverberate in his ears again and again…Smiling bitterly, he lifted his head toward the heavens defiantly and he cried through blood-flecked lips, "Just wait, my Queen! My plans are almost complete!" Picking up the staff, he slowly got to his feet and added, almost inaudibly, "Laugh now, but wait and see who is laughing when _this_ mortal defeats you…" He leaned the staff against the wall and fell into his bed wearily, his silken black blankets enveloping his tired, broken body in warmth. Outside, the faint mocking caw of a crow cut through the still night…

_The boy sat aloof from the rest, a book in hand and wearing the white robes of one who studies magic. The sun dappled a weave of light and the shadows that the leaves of the vallenwoods above cast upon the child's mob of auburn hair. Almost oblivious to the roughhousing going on nearby, the child studied diligently, occasionally muttering syllables to himself or writing notes in a small journal he kept. He didn't notice the two older boys as they came towards him, sniggering. _

_"Hey, Sly," one said conversationally, grinning maliciously. He was big for his age, with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across his face. He peered down at the scholar seated on the log. "Whacha reading?" _

_Penetrating pale blue eyes looked up from the book. They seemed to peel away the layers of clothing and skin to find what was inside. He looked the boy straight in the eye and spoke in a cool voice. "If you must know, I am learning about a wizard named Magius-" _

_"FASCINATING!!" The other boy exclaimed in feigned interest. He plopped himself right next to Raistlin and craned his neck to look at the book. "So is this a spellbook?" He asked, his emerald eyes falsely inquisitive. _

_Raistlin sighed, scooting slightly back from the boy. "No, it's just a history-" _

_"It's a spellbook, Michael!" The second boy yelled over to his buddy. "I'm gonna turn you into a frog!" With these words, he grabbed the history book out of the littler boy's small hands. "Om kichoo zeta!!" He completed his imaginary spell with a fanciful flourish of his hand. _

_"Hey! Give that back to me!" Raistlin tugged on his sleeve, attempting to reclaim his homework. The older boy shoved him hard, pushing him off the log to land in wet mud. Michael hooted with glee and at his friend's words, began to hop around, singing 'ribbit' at the top of his lungs. _

_"My turn, Josh! My turn!" Michael whined, sick of hopping. Josh threw the book high over Raistlin's head to his fellow bully. "I'm gonna turn you into a gully dwarf!" Growling in mock anger at being turned into something so stupid, Josh tackled Michael. The book went flying, and became soggy with mud and fallen leaves. _

_The youngest ran towards the book hopefully, brushing the mud off of himself. The two bullies looked up. Michael grabbed Raistlin by his frail wrists. "What do you think you are doing?" he snarled angrily, tightening his grip, digging his fingernails in harder. "We weren't finished!" _

_"Yeah!" Josh agreed. He poked Raistlin hard in the chest. Raistlin glared at them, insolent and infuriated. But not stupid. He whispered to himself,_ You are insects. Bugs! You are nothing to me…_in order not to retaliate. In order not to get hurt. Most unfortunately, Josh saw him. "Hey! What was that you said?" Raistlin just glowered at him. Josh, irate at the gall this eight-year-old was giving him, drew back his fist and punched him across the face. _

_Raistlin tasted blood from his split lip, could feel his cheek swelling from the blow. "I SAID, what was that?" Josh leered at Raistlin's determined face and swung his hand around again to backslap him. Michael, not going to be left out of a fun game, smacked the younger on the head. _

_"What are you gonna do, eh, wizard?" the bullies chanted, taking turns battering up the boy. Bright red blood splattered unto the white robes, yet from underneath a mask of purple and green bruises and blood, those penetrating pale blue eyes just glared with hatred at the tormentors. Most unfortunately, the next blows were aimed at the eyes and they turned into swollen black ones. _

_Finally, Raistlin broke down, sobbing in agony. "Caramon!" he cried weakly. Josh, in between punches, started to laugh. At his mocking laughter, other children ran over, bloodlust in their veins. They also began abusing Raistlin, each one hooting with glee at a new bruise. _

_"Caramon?!" he sneered. "Caramon's dead! You killed him!" He pummeled Raistlin harder. Raistlin tried to curl into a ball, but the blows kept raining down on him. "Caramon's dead! You killed him!" These words became a chant, echoing off the vallenwoods to strike Raistlin harder than any fist, to cut him deeper than any nail. He squinted up an eye and gasped in horror. The children's faces began to change, their skin melting off their faces until only a cavernous skull was left, leering. The mottled blue and white skin was stretched thinly over the bones, the homespun clothes darkening to black. Their eyes became a beady blood red, their fingernails long and wicked. From far above, Raistlin could hear sultry laughter. _

_"And this is what will happen if you fail, pathetic wizard," the voice whispered. "You will be tortured in mind and body. At the end of each day, you will die from pain. At the beginning of each night, I will bring you back to life. You will not be able to sleep, but will lie awake in shivering anticipation of the day to come. In the morning, my face will be the first sight you see…" _

Raistlin, the archmage, tossed and turned fretfully in his sleep. "Caramon…" he moaned unconsciously. "Caramon, help me…"

"_You will be tortured in mind and body. At the end of each day, you will die from pain. At the beginning of each night, I will bring you back to life. You will not be able to sleep, but will lie awake in shivering anticipation of the day to come. In the morning, my face will be the first sight you see…"_


	2. Equanimity

Dreams

**Chapter 2: Equanimity**

Raistlin screamed himself awake, writhing and shivering so violently that he fell off the bed. He landed on his back on the cold floor before he could regain any hint of composure, his bed sheets smothering him like the coils of a snake. He kicked them away in horror and frantically pushed the sleeves of his sleep robes up, to see if the horrid claw wounds were still there. His consciousness slowly came to him with the decelerating flow of his dry, wracking breaths and the assuring unblemished golden skin. "Just a dream," he murmured. "It was just a dream." Unnerved, Raistlin stood up, shaking slightly tousled white hair out of his eyes. Grabbing the Staff of Magius from the wall, the archmage muttered a few words of the spidery language of magic and was teleported to the laboratory. He chose one of the spellbooks bound in night blue off the wall of hundreds of books and sat in a soft chair by the window, the staff gleaming brightly at his side. "If I am to be robbed of my sleep," he whispered into the darkness outside the window, "then I shall find solace in study." Raistlin's study did not last long. His weariness overwhelmed him and sleep brushed it's manipulative fingers over tired eyes.

"_You will be tortured in mind and body. At the end of each day, you will die from pain. At the beginning of each night, I will bring you back to life. You will not be able to sleep, but will lie awake in shivering anticipation of the day to come. In the morning, my face will be the first sight you see… _

_"Raist?" A worried voice resonated over the squeals of the demon children, the laughter of a gleeful goddess. "Raist!" _

_A strong hand shook the whimpering child urgently. The boy awoke, shivering, traces of unseen horror reflected in those pale blue eyes. A concerned face peered down at his. "You were screaming. Did you have another bad dream?" _

_Raistlin clutched at his twin, clutched at the familiarity of his honest face, his deep voice, his strong arm. Then, he began to sob uncontrollably, the memories of the very real dream burnt into his mind's eye. Caramon moved farther from his side of the bed to hold his brother, who buried his face in his brother's chest. The bigger twin rocked Raistlin gently and said soothingly, "It's okay, Raist. They can't get you now. I'll beat them up with my sword," Through his tears, the boy smiled at the thought of his brother waving his toy sword at the wraiths that plagued him. "You go back to sleep now, Raist. I'll stay awake and make sure they don't come back." Raistlin laid down at his brother's side, somewhat subdued. Caramon remained sitting, arms crossed and with a scowl on his face for the demons that dare try to come back. The smaller closed his eyes and saw the blackness attempt to return, but the light from his brother's silver sword drove them back. He knew he was safe now, Caramon was here. He smiled. _

The midday sun glinted in through the window, dancing off the archmage's placid face. He stirred, and gradually became aware of the pang in his back from sleeping in a chair. Raistlin's hourglass shaped eyes opened slowly and glanced down at where he was and the spellbook of Fistandantilus that he was holding. The golden eyes narrowed. He could not remember anything that happened to him last night and did not know why he was in his laboratory instead of his bedchambers. Shrugging, figuring that he must have stayed up too late studying again, Raistlin Majere doused the staff and exited the laboratory. 


	3. Reinteration

Dreams

**Chapter 3: Reinteration**

Caramon Majere, Hero of the Lance, toddled into his bedroom by himself for the first time in a month. The room was quaint, homey, and located in a small, sad little house near the family business, the Inn of the Last Home. Tika, his saucy barmaid wife, had turned down his bed sheets and fluffed his pillows, but was nowhere in sight. Drunkenly, the big man figured she must be mad at him again. She didn't understand him, Caramon decided. Life was hard, he had a right to drink. How else could he get through the day? And she had no right to be nagging him all the time. Women! Looking around for his night clothes, he caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass near the bed. His brown, curly hair was tangled around his shoulders, his face ruddy, and rolls of fat hung off of him. He patted his massive girth and smiled woozily. He saw himself as he used to look during the days of the war, fit and formidable. Still grinning to himself, he set his flask of the potent alcohol dwarf spirits on the night table (in case he got thirsty in the night), sprawled out on the bed, his limbs akimbo, and began to snore loudly. A woman dressed in a plain white nightgown padded softly into the room. The yellow flame of the single candle that illuminated the room shone on her fiery, red curls, shone on the traces of tears that had fallen down her face. Tika looked over to her husband's snoring form and, sniveling softly, strode over to blow out the candle.

_Caramon looked down into the bowl of water with dry, crumbled leaves floating on the surface, planning on just humoring the old mage. He gasped quietly and peered down at his brother, broken and weak from magical battles. _

_"Raist," he murmured concernedly. "What have they done to you?" The warrior glanced up at the mage sitting opposite him, his fists clenching in pure fury and hatred. "What have you done to him?!" _

_Par-Salian sighed and put a soothing hand on Caramon's arm. "It is nothing but an illusion, Caramon. Your brother is fine." The wizard in white stretched a gnarled finger to point at the surface of the water. "Watch closer," _

_Caramon looked into the bowl and, to his astonishment, saw himself. "Me?" he asked dazedly. "I don't understand," _

_The ice blue eyes of the Master of the Tower of Wayreth caught Caramon's and held them fast. "Watch," he whispered forebodingly. _

_"Get out of my way, Caramon!" Raistlin choked to the Caramon inside the bowl. _

_Caramon did not respond. He walked toward Fistandantilus, shielding his brother. He dropped his weapons. Now, in their place he held a rod of amber and a bit of fur. He rubbed them together and spoke the magic. _

_"What?!" the real Caramon yelled indignantly, staring in disbelief at the bowl. "I can't do magic! What's going on?!" _

_Lightening streaked from the amber, sizzled down the corridor, struck the head of Fistandantilus. The old man's head exploded in blue fire. "Now we can get out of here," Caramon heard himself say. "The door is just ahead." _

_"How-how did you do that?" Raistlin gasped, sagging against the wall. _

_Caramon stopped, alarmed by his brother's wild, frenzied stared. "Do what, Raist?" _

_"The magic," he cried in fury. "The magic!" _

_"Oh that." Caramon shrugged, gave a shy, deprecating smile. "I've always been able to." Caramon watched himself grow solemn and stern. "Most of the time I on't need the magic, what with my sword and all, but you're hurt really bad, and I didn't want to take the time fighting that lich. Don't worry about it, Raist. Magic can still be your little specialty. Like I said, most of the time I don't need it." _

_"No, Raist!" Caramon cried from his view above. "I don't know how to do magic! It's a trick! It's not me! It's not me!" Stroking his long beard of silver, Par-Salian grew grim. He looked over at the warrior who was still screaming into the bowl. _

_"All I ever had was my magic," Raistlin said, speaking clearly, thinking clearly for the first time in his life. "And now you have that, too." Using the wall for support, Raistlin raised both his hands and put his thumbs together. He began speaking the words that would summon the magic. _

_"NOOO! Raist!!" Caramon sobbed uncontrollably. "RAIST!!" _

_"Raist!" Caramon started to back away. "Raist, what are you doing? C'mon! You need me! I'll take care of you-just like always, Raist! I'm your brother!" _

_"I have no brother!" Red and yellow fire flared and billowed from Raistlin's hands, engulfing Caramon. _

_"NOOOOOO! NOOOO! Damn you mages! You did this to him! Damn you!!" Caramon, in his grief and fury knocked the bowl to the floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces, sopping water and soggy leaves all over everything. He overturned the table and seemed like he was about to throttle the mage, who was watching with a look of pity, but fell to his knees sobbing. _

_"Raist…" _

Caramon awoke, blubbering at the memory, his brother's name on his lips. He wiped his eyes with his pillow and wondered vaguely where Tika was. Even in the dark of night, Caramon reached over to the flask he left by his bed. Chugging the entire flask in one gulp, he threw the flask to the other side of the room and rolled over to fall asleep once more. 


	4. Recapitulation

Dreams

**Chapter 4: Recapitulation **

"Do you have everything you need, Caramon?" Tanis Half-Elven asked, handing Caramon a candle. The warrior glanced over at his friend, dressed in nightclothes, and took the candle with a pseudo smile that did not touch his eyes, dull eyes that seemed to stare far away into nothing but dark despair. Tanis returned the smile halfheartedly and patted Caramon on the arm. He was more than a little worried about his friend. Caramon hadn't spoken at all since that day… In response in the silence that answered him, Tanis glanced about the room himself to make sure everything was in place. Yes, the familiar wall tapestries that held the history of the world within golden stitches still adorned the wall, the priceless porcelain elven vase still stood upon the table in the corner, the tall bed was still topped with many jade and golden pillows. Even the sweet perfume that drifted from the pallid moonflowers that sprawled inside to become as much a part of the room as the carper was familiar. 

The warrior tore his eyes from the introspective darkness to look into the face of his old friend. "Do I have everything I need? No. And I never will again." The half elf sighed and sat down on the bed next to his friend. Solinari's light streamed in the perpetually open window, illuminating the silver streaks in Tanis' hair, casting his face into sharp relief and etching him much older than his true age.

"Caramon, Raistlin died to save the world…and you. Would you belittle his sacrifice by living this way?"

Caramon turned on his friend, angry and hurt. "He's not dead! Don't you understand?! He's still in Abyss, tortured by the Dark Queen every day…and every night…My _brother_! My twin!" Tanis looked down at his hands, knowing it was important to release pent up emotion, but feeling uncomfortable nonetheless. "You don't understand, Tanis. We were always together, even in the womb! How am I just supposed to live my life _knowing_ that while I am happy and at peace, the Queen is killing him over and over? How can I live knowing that I abandoned him to that fate? I can't…" The warrior blew out the candle and lay down on the bed, facing his back toward Tanis. "I can't…" he whispered again to himself, then, drained, spoke apathetically to Tanis. "Good night."

The half elf looked over at the muscled back that faced him and scratched his reddish beard in frustration. He stood up from the bed and carefully fumbled out of the room in the dark. "Good night, my friend." As soon as he shut the door, Tanis stormed over to his parlor, pacing and clenching his fists in aggravation. He hated seeing Caramon in pain and hated worse that he could do nothing to alleviate it. "Raistlin," he muttered angrily to the darkness. "Even your absence causes trouble!" Yet, he closed his eyes and could still see Raistlin giving Caramon the Staff of Magius, could still see Raistlin's frail body impaled upon an unholy claw. Brushing the unexpected tears from his eyes, he sighed in frustration. "Paladine," he whispered, sinking tiredly into a chair. "Grant him peace," Tanis looked outside the window and at the moons. "Grant them both peace."

*

Caramon listened carefully for the sounds of Tanis leaving his room and walking down the hall. After he was certain the half elf was gone, he crept out of bed to lock the door. The warrior knelt on the floor where he had tossed his armor earlier and drew his sword from the worn scabbard. He returned to the bed and sat with the blade upon his lap, his eyes upon the moons outside that reminded him of magic and of his brother.

"Raist," he softly told the moons, his hands absentmindedly running over the sword's blade. "I can't live with this pain anymore. I'm sorry I abandoned you. I can't take this pain, this guilt. It would be so easy, my twin, to escape this darkness. I hate the world…but not half as much as I hate myself. It would be so easy to escape…" His emotion overcoming him, Caramon felt the spindly fingers of sleep strangle his strength. "I miss you," He fell backwards unto the bed, landing on a mountain of pillows. "I miss you…"

_Caramon opened his eyes to see a ceiling crafted from the branches of a huge vallenwood tree. He felt a soft breath touch his cheek and he turned to see the window was open, Solinari shining brightly outside. Yet, there were no nighttime sonatas of cicadas nor the mournful ribbit of a toad to be heard, only a peaceful, unnatural quiet. Bewildered, Caramon sat up and looked around this room that was so familiar to him, recognizing the plain desk that Raistlin used to study at, the notches in the wall where he had accidentally struck it with his sword, the worn curtains that his mother Rosamun had sewn. Stilling his breath, Caramon realized he was not alone. He turned to his other side, foreboding in his heart. _

_The moonlight shimmered on golden skin, illuminated silver hair that fell over his shoulders and lightly over his face. Caramon gasped and felt tears spring to his eyes. Still robed in black, the cruel lines of evil and malice were smoothed from the face that was as familiar to the warrior as his own. Raistlin slept deeply, his chest rising and falling with ease and rest, a faint smile on his lips. His hand shaking terribly, the warrior reached out a hand to brush the hair from his twin's face, feeling his brother's warm skin. "Raist?" he choked out in a whisper. _

_Words drifted to Caramon's ear from outside the window, seemed to be musical and omniscient. A voice that was so familiar… "Caramon, my son, you see your brother sleeping. He sleeps eternally, and memories of you keep bad dreams away. Do not let your heart be troubled for one who is at peace resting. He waits for you, my son, to leave this world. Now, go and may you find the same peace as your brother did with your family and your friends. They love you, too. Sleep, Caramon…sleep…" Caramon listened to the voice with closed eyes, his tears streaming unchecked down his face. At the voice's command, Caramon fell back to lay next to his twin and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, his brother's steady breathing his ear… _

BANG! BANG! BANGBANGBANG! "Damn it, Caramon! Open the door! What's going on in there?!" Tanis beat on the door with his fists angrily. Caramon _never_ locked the door, and with it almost lunchtime, the absence of the warrior was noted worriedly. Something was wrong. Frustrated, Tanis kicked the door with a delicate elven boot, only adding a pain in his foot to his problems. Then he remembered he had the master set of keys on his belt. Feeling like it would have been more appropriate to kick himself rather than the door, Tanis opened the door. The sunlight danced in through the windows, the perfume of the moonflower was replaced by that of sweet pea and morning lily. A huddle lay on the bed. Creeping into the room towards the huddle, Tanis stepped on something that glinted in the sunlight. He reached down and picked up Caramon's sword, his face ashen, foreboding in his heart. He leaned closer…Caramon lay sprawled out upon the bed, snoring softly. Weak with relief, the half elf gently shook the sleeper's shoulder. "Caramon?"

Through a tangle of brownish curls, sapphire eyes slowly opened. "Tanis?" the big man muttered sleepily. Tanis peered down at him, concerned.

"Are you well? Do you want anyth-" Tanis bit his tongue, remembering the sparks that flew last night. Reddened, he was amazed to see the warrior sit up and smile nostalgically. 

Caramon looked past Tanis, past the window, past Solanthus, and into the distance. "Yes, I _do_ want something. I want to go home," the warrior turned from the window looked directly at his friend and smiled, a true smile. "It is time to go home." 


End file.
